Starting Over
by Tallent
Summary: Nicky begins her life on the run.
1. Starting Over

Spoilers for all movies.

Rated R just for mild language so far.

Nicky for now but Nicky/Bourne soon.

If I owned the Nicky/Bourne characters I'd be a lot richer. But I don't so I'm not.

First fanfic. There's little dialogue in this part but it's coming.

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The bus was leaving the Madrid station in 1 minute. She watched his mouth move as he told her about a hotel in Seville. Jason didn't use many words—it was, in fact, more of an emphatically verbal post it note--—the name of a hotel, the street, a room number, and the words "You're last name is Levine. Go there." Was she in shock, she wondered, to be so still, to count his words? She must be or surely she'd be crying or yelling or whispering or at least moving. But she couldn't. So she pivoted and climbed the 3 steps up the bus without looking back, and took a seat on the far side of the bus. She didn't want to see him not be there by the time she sat down. The doors closed and the driver took the bus out of park, and as it moved Nicky Parsons closed her eyes and finally let her tears fall.

**SEVILLE **

Arriving at the hotel she threw chaotic glances around trying to find something abnormal yet hoping desperately not to. She signed in under the name Jason gave her and was given a slip of paper as receipt. A trap or a gift from Bourne? She didn't know until she put her trust in Jason once again and quietly, with a shaky whisper, called the number on the paper. When she was ready, the accented voice on the other end told her, there would be a bag for her. A gift from him. There would be IDs and cash. Enough to get her started. Nodding in scared understanding she hung up and cradled the phone.

Her first days were spent huddled up in the corner of the small hotel room. She could see why he'd told her to come here. The hotel was undergoing refurbishment, and this was the last of the rooms that were untouched. All of the others now had small or faux balconies and larger windows. She allowed herself 3 seconds to wonder if he'd been here recently, to know the condition of the place. Of course he must have, she chided herself. Shaking the thought out of her head she regained her lapsed concentration.

Nicky held her gun at the ready for hours on end, pumped with adrenaline, unable to doze, ready to shoot at anything that crashed through the door. When she just couldn't stay awake she'd inch to the closet and hide and sleep with the door closed and the gun in her lap.

After 3 days she felt like a trapped animal and she hated the feeling. Severe paranoia was setting in forcing her to always anticipate the attack she was sure would come at any second. When she forced herself to leave the room, she crouched low on the narrow, dirty stairs, fighting to keep in the whimpers and cries. Every step was a sheer force of will. Treadstone was closed but assassins were still employed. There were old ones and new ones, not of Jason's caliber but certainly deadly and acted on order. Somewhere, she knew, her name had already been forwarded to one of them.

Out on the street she found a corner deli, blindly grabbed items, and ran back to the room. She'd been so scared she hadn't thought about her needs, just grabbed various items from various shelves and bailed. She hadn't looked at the cashier's face when she paid and he bagged the food. What if he'd seen her picture and knew? Did she look as scared as she felt? Had she raised his suspicion? Had it even been a man? Her fear ebbed a bit and she was angry that she couldn't answer any of those questions. Sitting on the floor, legs crossed, she put her head in her hands and cried. "Damn it!" she sobbed. How had she lost control like this? To be scared was one thing, probably a smart thing, but to lose herself entirely was another.

She lay on the floor and allowed herself a racked cry, wiped at her face and took the bag, hungry. Inside she found the few items she'd carelessly grabbed from the shelves—tuna and soup. No can opener. She'd gotten processed cheese, a bottle of juice and a bag of nuts. "Fuck!" she allowed herself the gutteral, cathartic swear while looking up and yelling at the cracked and peeling ceiling. Furious, she hurled the bag across the room and watched it smack the wall and while it's contents fell and rolled across the floor. She was pissed and she was done with feeling terrified. Scared she could deal with, but not weak. Not anymore. She had to act. The next morning she was on a train heading south with the gifted bag in her lap.

Her knowledge of the Treadstone men, knowing what they did, what they were capable of, pushed her beyond her basic training. In the various cities she stayed in, she worked. Without formal guidance she piggybacked bottom line common sense with what she knew the agents did---hunt, kill and not be seen. She worked the basic fundamentals with the knowledge of what the outcome needed to be, and tried to connect the dots in between. She tried to increase her endurance and stamina. When she felt safe she ran—a lot and hard--up hillsides, on sandy beaches, along riverbeds, through fields, rarely on trails or smooth surfaces. She tried to train her mind and senses as well. She made herself become astutely aware of her surroundings, watched the clientele that frequented certain areas, learned the ebb and flow, and began her work on lessening the rust on her few languages.

As she hopped from city to city, she memorized routes to different places she deemed safe from as many start points as she could. She didn't ever want to be trapped. She wanted to know the quickest way from point a to point b without a thought. Where could she get food, medical supplies, a car, a way out. She needed to know it all. It exhausted her and in the end her information would be useless. She'd spend the time and energy to gain the knowledge and then be spooked into leaving it all behind on a feeling she couldn't name or shake. But she knew she had to go She kept the bag Jason had given her, left for her, asked to be made for her—she never could figure that out. But she updated the bag as she went, adding to it protein bars and a few bottles of water, scissors and hair dye, one wig, a changes of clothes, and a first aid kit. Necessities. When spooked she'd grab it and be gone. lShe never knew if she was acting on paranoia or if there was real reason to go but she didn't have the luxury of deciding. She wanted to live. So she'd move on, hyper aware, exhausted and in need of time.

Nicky couldn't take go on like this, she realized after a few weeks. She made herself take what she needed the most--time. She rested in another bare hotel room in another unknown city, and allowed herself the time to heal her mind a bit and rest her body. And ultimately, make a plan.

Her eyes snapped awake as the bus slid into its spot at the last stop before Rome. She'd travel to the larger city on the commuter train during the morning rush. Digging out the schedule from her coat pocket, she checked the grid, looked at her watch and smiled. The first train would leave in 12 minutes. Plenty of time.

Nicky quickly bought a newspaper and an espresso from the corner stand then moved to the right and deftly joined the mob of people making their way to the first train in to Rome. She smiled as she settled into her seat on the train, handed the conductor her ticket, and was happy with her progress. She was terrified of ever becoming complacent, of being found, of being killed and no one knowing why the girl died in the middle of a busy street or an empty apartment and no one knowing how or…her. He'd put her on a bus and she'd ended up dark, alone and hardened. Hard but not brittle, instead she was proving stronger than she'd ever believed she could be. And in some twisted way she was happy to learn this about herself. She was getting better at this. He was right. It was getting easier.

ROME

This would be her long stay. She was going to try and settle in Rome, at least for a while. She needed plans, not just reactions. For countless nights she lay in bed and replayed her role in helping Jason, in setting her own path in motion, or out of control as she thought more about it. She'd helped him surely, and screwed herself royally.

If she'd just lied and set she was helping because she thought he'd been wronged, played the stoic card, would he have abandoned her so quickly? If she'd flat out told him about their past, their history, if she'd told it all and unburdened herself to him, would he have had any compassion? If she'd said Ruby instead of Everest, where would she be? Where would _h_e be? Nothing was resolved. This was her life now. She knew it was wrong and she knew it was stupid but she needed to know she was alive and part of something again. She needed to belong somewhere even if it was only pretend. So Rome it was. For now.

Once in the city, she signed up for a tour group and climbed aboard the bus. She got a basic layout of the city, sketching major roadways, points of reference, tourist spots and areas for locals as they went. It had been a long while since she'd had a conversation with anyone and yet she surprised herself as she chatted easily with the tour operator about the city. With all of the information she'd gained Nicky made her way across the Tiber River into an old part of the city. At a store she bought a few visa cash cards and a prepaid phone, found an internet café, and did a search for apartments for rent. By the end of the day she'd found a place, gotten the key and moved in to the top floor apartment. No balcony, no fire escape, old world charm. It was small and came with a bed, a wooden table and a telephone. She watched her neighborhood and learned her routes, and worked up the nerve to go back to the world.

At one of the piazzas she found a string of pubs and a late night bartending job, wore a name-tag that read 'Sophie' and mixed strong drinks for the people who would never squint to read her fake name. They wanted drinks, dancing and someone to take home for a night. She handled the first part and watched where it took them. The noise took her a while to get used to but the music was loud and no one bothered her. This would be her life for a while.


	2. A Fork in the Road

Work was going well. It hadn't been too difficult to blend in. She'd bought some mixology books and practiced at home.

The staff was friendly but left the strange girl alone for the most part. She kept to herself, did her job well, was never late and didn't call in sick. She didn't know just what it was about her that put them off but she was grateful. They were helpful when needed and would smile in greeting but that was pretty much where the line was drawn.

The male customers on the other hand, would try to talk to her, flirt, over the crowd and the music of the always changing bands. They'd talk or ask about something other than a drink and she'd shrug, smile apologetically, point out to the music and then to her ear.

_Sorry buddy. I just can't hear you. _

They didn't really care. They'd move down the bar, onto the dance floor, and find someone who could hear their come-ons.

But there was _one_ that nearly piqued her interest. He stood out in a way that at first alarmed her, but then, when no danger came, she began to study and appreciate. His clothing didn't try to impress, he didn't feign interest in anyone, kept time to the music with a tapping foot, and only watched and spoke to Nicky as Sophie when he wanted a drink. There had been a handful of times where he could have hurt her had he wanted to but she was still here. There was just something about him.

She was still weary though and at times went home in the early hours of the morning when the bar closed, fully exhausted by the people-scrutinizing habit that had become second nature.

"Draft beer. A pint. Please." Nicky looked up from washing out a glass while nodding and met the man's eyes. He had no accent. How had she never noticed that?

She bit the inside of her bottom lip gently and poured the beer. It was early and the music and the crowd was still low. He'd never been here this early that she could remember and her insides were slowing freezing. Was she wrong to have stayed all this time?

She pushed the beer toward him, forcing herself to do it gently and not throw it in his face and run for the door. "Here you go," she managed.

"Thanks." He sipped. "Sophie," he began, clearing his throat. She froze in a half turn. "That's your name, isn't it?" he questioned.

Breathing hard she turned back to him and forced a small smile. "Yes, um," she'd choked on the word and cleared her throat. "Did you need something else?"

"No, I, ah…I just wanted to say hello."

He was obviously uncomfortable. Was she his first assignment? Her mouth went dry as she watched his face, looking for the mask they had all worn during her meetings with them all those years ago. They'd worn it always when working or debriefing—controlled, minimal expressions and features. Always thinking, planning, plotting. But this man, seemed just genuinely…awkward.

"Hi," she gave him with a nod. Shaking she pretended to go back to work, washing, pouring, wiping, stocking but aware of his eyes on her.

"You work a lot," he noted as she made herself wipe down the small spill that his neighbor had left.

"Excuse me?"

"You work a lot. I mean, I see you here every time I'm here. And I'm here a lot."

She regarded him. What information did he want? What was he looking for?

"No other job?" He continued. "A Student? Husband at home? Kids?" he fished, waiting only a second between each question.

He was so bad at this she nearly laughed out loud. She allowed herself to let out a long breath.

"No," she released the information, shaking her head slowly. "Right now, this is it. This is what I do."

"You do it well." Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened at the smarmy remark. He could see it, could see her reaction to the remark. "Oh. That was bad wasn't it." Not even a question, a statement. "Very, very bad," he muttered and turned pink. "I, um, I just meant…you're very good at pouring…"

Nicky's eyebrows went up a bit. She was becoming amused.

"No, not at pouring, anyone can pour," he continued quickly. "I mean, you always get it right. You're …efficient."

She watched him and for the first time in a long while her smile met her eyes, and they lit up along with her quiet laugh.

"Efficient," she rolled the word around her tongue and nodded slightly. "Okay. I'll take that as a compliment."

Please, please do," he tried to recover. "I mean, at least that's the way I meant it."

"I know." She smiled. Now she knew why it was that he kept to himself so much when he was here. But then why was he here so much? She tensed but he was unaware. "What about you? What brings you here so often?" Her words had a sharper edge to them than she'd intended.

"The bands that come in, my brother just started his own business and he manages them. I help him out for now, give free reviews, that kind of thing. Helps him, helps the bands…" He trailed off, shrugging a bit. It made sense and relief washed over her. "And I like this place. Never too busy to be crazy but still enough people so you don't feel weird being out by yourself."

Nodding, she smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Okay."

"Okay?" he asked, puzzled.

"Okay," she affirmed, not answering his confusion.

They stared at each other for a long second and any tension that she'd had pent up simply broke. There was something about him that she intuitively…trusted. Watching him, she unconsciously compared him to Jason. Taller, leaner, glasses, brown tousled hair that looked good with a small amount of gel thrown in. Fair skin. He must work indoors a lot, not get too much sun. But yet he was athletic. A gym? A morning runner?

"I'm Benjamin," he gushed, suddenly. "Or just…Ben. Carpenter." He put out his hand.

Smiling, Nicky accepted and shook it lightly. "Sophie," she countered. "Sophia Kane." Then after a moment, "But just Sophie."

He nodded and smiled.

She'd gone back to work after a few more minutes of easy chatter, and by the time the music had started and the crowd had increased he had taken his usual spot to watch the band.

She noticed that he started to come in earlier now. Now he came in as she began her prep work and they talked easily while she worked and he drank. He'd remarked more than once that the set up wasn't fair but truthfully she was happy to have the long wooden bar between them while they talked. He told her about his family back in the US, how his sister lived in Italy part of the time and had invited him to use her apartment after he graduated with his Masters in Economics. His brother was a bit of a drifter, but was finding himself and when he opened his management business the whole family lent their support. His story was so wholesome, so normal,so...boring...and she loved it.

She was compelled to share her made up story about her made up family and her made up past, and it made her feel horrible. It was simple and straightforward. Boring too but only because she'd devised it that way. Grew up outside of Chicago, went to school, followed a boyfriend to Europe on a graduation trip but he'd met someone else and left her outside of Lisbon. Her family was full of I told you so's so for now they didn't speak. She'd gotten a degree in International Relations but for now would bartend her nights away and sleep away the days.

"Fun," he deadpanned after the story was told.

"What?" she wondered. What had been wrong with her story?

"It's no way to live." He nearly scolded her. "You're not doing anything."

She was instantly angry. Who was he to question how she lived? "What do you mean I'm not doing anything?" she retorted, her quick anger firing.

He didn't see the anger and continued. "You're in Europe here, in Italy, in ROME." He emphasized before resting a beat. "And you're bartending."

"SO?" she flared.

"SO," he retorted. "That's it. You're bartending. "He shrugged as if the words explained it all. "You could be doing that anywhere. You should do something else, that's all. More."

"More," she repeated. "Mm, Hmm." Her lips pursed as she opened new bottles of liquor and lined them on the shelves, hard.

"All I'm saying," he continued, "is that you're a beautiful girl in a beautiful city. You're smart and you're fun and you should be enjoying yourself. Have you even been to Vatican City yet? Been to the center of town? The ruins? Any of this sound familiar?"

She'd stopped at his description of her, flattered. But she was still angry with him, she reminded herself. Who was he to say how she lived?

She found her words finally. "I don't have time," she told him tightly. "I work. I work late. I go home and I go to sleep and until work starts again I...live. I pay my bills, I grocery shop, I..."

He was twirling one finger in the air. "Whoo!" He interupted as he gave her a lopsided smile. While she didn't like his judgements she could see he wasn't trying to be mean. If anything he thought he was being helpful.

He put two hands flat on the bar and told her, "So that's it. Tomorrow night you're not working."

"No, I always work on Thursdays." She shot him a look that was quizzical and worried. Where was this going?

"And yet tomorrow you'll take off..." One hand reached for hers and held it. "And you'll let me take you around. One date."

His words hung in the air between them and she was hyper aware of the feeling of his hand on hers. Cool but warming. Dating someone isn't what you did when you were trying to start a new life for yourself. Or wait, wasn't it? Wasn't that part of starting the new life? She'd seen the news reports on the Black Briar collapse and ultimate fallout. David's body hadn't been recovered but she knew he was alive. Nursing his body and mind. He wouldn't come for her, didn't know her in the sense that made you seek someone out.

She saw herself at a crossroads. Which path should she choose? In her mind's eye she looked left and then right, deciding. And in her mental picture she began to walk. She'd chosen. She did need to start over. All over. This man was, without knowing, offering to help her do so.

She left her hand under his and looked him in the eye. "Okay. One date. I'll take tomorrow off."


	3. Happiness

Ben and Sophie traveled all through Rome. It had taken a few weeks but he had shown her nearly all of the city and it's outlying areas. That Thursday she'd agreed to meet him at the pub. He brought her to his car, a sport red 2 seater, and zoomed her around the first quadrant of sightseeing. She'd been okay on the way to the bar—it was just like going to work. But then it had changed. In the car with the top down she felt exposed. Her skin paled as they sped down a one way street and her stomach lurched up in to her throat. He caught her looking around wildly and immediately became concerned and pulled the car to a smooth stop along the curb.

"Are you okay?" Ben asked, shifting into neutral and pushing the brake.

Speeding up and down the streets had been bad, but here, stopped was even worse.

"Car sick," she muttered. "Can you, um, put the top up? That might help."

"Sure, if that'll help." He pushed a button on the dashboard and the whir of a motor pushed up the soft material until it snapped into place against the frame. He locked it and she smiled weakly at him.

"Sorry," she told him, her eyes downcast. "I just---it was fast, and the wind…" He'd wanted to impress her, she knew. Take her for a ride in his car, top down. Be suave.

"Not a problem.." He assured her with his lopsided smile. "As long as you're alright."

She nodded, trying to get herself together. Traffic was light here but up ahead lay the tourist traps. She had to admit that she was excited to see some sights. All she'd seen of Rome thus far were the 9 various routes that took her to and from work, the small grocer where she shopped and the small, still bare apartment. It was true that she tried to run when she could, to keep up her physicality, but with her hours it was difficult and so she relied on her trips up and down the stairs both at home and at work, and the heavy boxes filled with liquor bottles she lifted to do that for her.

"I am," she told him. "I'll be okay." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning to smile at him as he shifted the gear into first. "Let's go."

They zipped around town, playing tourists, laughing and eating. They walked around, pointing and reading maps and notes of interest.. Nicky was able to forget that she had lived in Europe for many years and treated this as her first time. Besides, in truth she'd never to Italy. Ben took her hand as they walked through Campo de'Fiori Market and she looked up at him and smiled. They ate an early lunch and found themselves near Gianicolo hill. There they rode the merry go round and stayed for a few minutes of the children's puppet show. Near noon he directed her toward a small crowd gathering.

"What?" she asked. "What is this?"

"Every day at 12 they fire off a cannon. Can you believe that? It's really real. A real cannon." He marveled, obviously excited.

She giggled a bit and her nose wrinkled. "How many times have you been here?" He seemed like such a little boy right now, so excited to see a large weapon detonated. He had no idea what it was like to have the real thing, though arguably smaller yet no less deadly, aimed right at you. "Boys and their toys," she chided gently.

They waited a full moment and the announcement was made that the cannon would be fired. She found herself bracing against the noise that would come and was happily surprised when she felt Ben's arm slide around her waist and pull her in slightly. BOOM! It really was loud and Nicky instinctively put her hands to her ears.

"Neat, huh?" Ben asked, smiling.

"Yeah," she gave him. "Really neat." But it wasn't. It was loud and unnerving and she was ready to go. "Where to now?"

They'd spent days traveling around and it wasn't until their fourth date that he kissed her. She'd been waiting for it, expecting it, and finding herself surprised to be disappointed when it never came. True she could have initiated but she didn't. She wanted to be wanted again.

Their fourth date was simply dinner. Her boss seemed happy to see her taking an interest in something besides her work schedule and would happily adjust her schedule when asked. So she wasn't working and instead preparing for her dinner with Ben. Nicky caught herself in the bathroom mirror and stopped. She'd been smiling, thinking about the upcoming evening. She watched herself, cocking her head, giving herself a quizzical look. When had she fallen for Benjamin Carpenter? She barely knew him —had only known him for a few weeks and still she felt so happy.

They had eaten dinner and now sat on a park bench, talking. His sister would be coming back to town for a visit and his brother's business was doing well. His own job was uneventful if sometimes stressful but ultimately he still liked it. She was quiet and watched him as he spoke. No dimples to speak of but she liked the shape of his mouth and she watched it move. He'd been talking but she didn't hear any of it until she heard her name.

"Sophie?"

Had he said it more than once? "Sorry," she told him, her eyes catching his. "I was just…I…" she didn't have the words to explain.

Even if she'd continued speaking he would have cut her off, his words were so rushed. "I want to kiss you."

Her breath caught in her throat and she shivered involuntarily. "Please." She nodded, not letting go of his gaze.

He leaned down toward her and caught her lips in his while his hand reached up to gently hold the back of her neck and then touch the side of her face.

It had been magic for Nicky. She felt alive again but greedy now. She wanted more.

They kissed and touched and gently explored before Ben reminded her that they were in a park. Shy at first she put her head down then smiled and lifted her chin. "Can we…Do you…My place isn't…" Her head was swimming and she was feeling wonderful except for the fact that she'd lost the ability to make words. She reached to kiss him again, loving the lost feeling.

Thankfully he understood and motioned her up. "Let's go."

It was a quiet ride back to his apartment. She hadn't ever been here before and she was surprised at how small it was. She'd expected more, bigger, lavish. But instead it was small, well decorated and decidedly cozy.

She was inside and turned as Ben closed the door behind them. God, she wanted to hear him call her own name, her real name. But she was still happy when she heard him say her fake one in a husky tone. "Sophia." And she went to him.

The next morning she woke wrapped in the glory of a night of lovemaking. She felt completely satisfied and happy. She stretched languidly, enjoying the feel of high thread count sheets beneath her. Ben was up and making coffee. He offered her the shower and she was delighted to find a variety of scented body washes, gels and lotions. At first she felt bad for going through his cabinets, then came the question of why all the feminine shower items. When the answer that his sister lived here too at times slammed into her she felt like a complete jerk. Had she really thought he kept them here for his women?

Nicky loved her hot shower, left smelling like a combination of rosemary and mint, and wrapped herself into the plush towels. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked up, smiling, as Ben entered the room. She briefly flashed on a choice she'd made, to go left or to go right. As she watched him walk toward her she knew she had chosen well.


	4. Pinnacle

They spent most of their time together. Ben dragged her, just about literally, out to concerts, museums and cafes. Arguments that she was just a homebody were generally accepted but she wasn't stupid. She knew she had to go out and not make a big deal about it. People went out everyday and lived. But how did you go out when you didn't know if there was someone 'out there' looking for you? Those were the excursions where she became hyper aware of her surroundings. He chided her for not paying attention to the play, listening to the music, walking too fast, just trying to get home, She argued that she loved being home with him, lazy languid nights in bed with him, dinners in, renting movies. He liked it too but not for the same reasons. He wasn't scared of being recognized, of being targeted.

_Sorry, _ she'd reply and try not to get lost in the memorization of people's faces, of looking for quick movements, looking for eyes locking on her even for a second.

On one particular evening she was happy to be in his apartment, reading by the fire. Various newspapers from the US and Europe lay scattered around her. Ben was across the room on the computer, working.

Looking up he asked. "Have I ever emailed you?"

She was half a world away reading about Washington DC based political shake-ups. Some names she'd recognized and she was always curious about the ongoing Blackbriar fallout. Landy was applauded for her work and Vosen was 'in custody' while hearings went on but there was nothing definitive about anyone's fate. She was sure it wouldn't be advertised in any sort of media anyway but she continued to look for new information. She heard his voice and looked up. "Huh?" Her eyes looked for his but he was focused on the screen in front of him.

"Email. Internet." He spoke as he typed. "Have I ever emailed you? Do you have an email account?"

"Sure," she lied too easily. "I mean, no, you don't email me. I have an account but it mostly just collects spam." She shrugged.

"It's just—it would be such an easy way for your family to get in touch with you."

"Well," her mouth formed a straight line. "I guess that would be up to them, wouldn't it?"

He let it go, knowing she didn't like to talk about her family, her past. He let it go but there was tension in the air. Tension over a family that didn't exist, that couldn't get in touch with her because realistically they couldn't.

She lay in bed with him, wearing only his shirt, lying in his arms. They were happily quiet and, she thought, enjoying the easy silence. Then he spoke.

"I worry about you." He told her in a low tone, grazing his thumb up and down her forearm.

"What? Why?" She sat up a bit, looking at him. She'd tried to smile and gauge how serious he was. When he didn't return her smile she knew there was a problem.

He pulled her toward him, tucking her against his chest again. "Who do you know besides me_?"_

" I know a lot of people." Her voice had a chill that came with her defenses.

"Name 4."

She couldn't see him above her head nor did she want to. She knew there were questions to be asked about how she lived her life but she'd been happy that up until this point they'd never been asked. Nicky thought briefly about making up names. But what good would that do?

She sighed, sat up, and swung her legs around to the side of the bed. "I know you. Isn't that enough?"

"Sophie…" he began. She knew what he'd say. He shouldn't be her whole life, her lifeline. And in any other normal situation she would have agreed.

She left soon after and cried herself to sleep alone in her own cold bed. She thought of Jason and how with her loyalty and love for him she'd cursed herself.

Days later Ben had called her on her cell phone. They met for lunch and though he hadn't brought it up, hadn't asked her to, she agreed to get in touch with her family. He'd been so happy. His bright smile nearly broke her heart. She'd have to lie to keep him happy.

"I really think it's a good idea," he told her, enthusiastically. "I think once you put his all to rest, you'll be able to move on." He'd thought she was depressed over her lack of communication with her family and she didn't try to change his mind.

The rest of lunch had been light and airy just like all of their other lunches before. But her heart was heavier now and she felt a bit like she had to pretend again.

"So Lauren will be here tomorrow. I'd really love for you to meet her." He wiped his mouth with his napkin and dropped it back in his lap. "She's got some business here but it usually only lasts a few days before she has to head back." The information was twofold. 1. Meet the family and 2. His apartment would be off limits for a few nights. Her place? She saw the question in his eyes.

She didn't let her shrug begin. "Sure, " she told him. "That'd be great."

A few days later Nicky found herself in Ben's living room. They were drinking wine and playing a game of Scrabble, waiting for Lauren to return with a prearranged dinner.

Nicky had just taken a sip of her wine and was carelessly running a finger up and down the glass while she looked over her letter tiles. She hadn't seen too much of Ben the last few days, except when he came to the bar.

"What does Lauren do for the bank?" She asked while adding her h,e and r to his word 'feat.' "Feather." She told him with a smile.

He made a face while checking his tiles against the board. "Some kind of personalized banking. She used to work out of Rome but she kept this place when she was transferred to Barcelona. She still has some clients here so it's easier for her to just stay for a while and work instead of going back and forth." He made a new word and looked to see her reaction. "There you go."

"That's your word?" she asked quietly. He'd taken l,o, and v and added them horizontally to one of the e's in feather. "Love?"

If he'd given an answer it would have been cut short by the blonde walking in with the armload of brown bags. Take out from a local restaurant.

Both Nicky and Ben jumped up, startled by the noise and the movement. He immediately got up and went to his sister, taking the bags. "Mmm, Bucca di Beppos? I love them!" Nicky stood, uncomfortable, by the couch waiting for she didn't know what.

Lauren had stopped upon seeing Nicky, tilting her head slightly. Nicky had the feeling that she was being sized up, dissected, and assessed. Was this girl good enough for her baby brother? But the moment passed and Lauren came to her, her hand extended in a warm handshake.

"So you're the famous Sophie," She gave a full smile and pulled Nicky back to the couch with her. "Hey bunny! Bring the wine bottle out here, will you?" she called to her brother in the kitchen.

Nicky smirked. Bunny?

Lauren read her face. "Benjamin Bunny. The character in the book? We've always called him that."

"And thanks so much for sharing that in the first minute." Ben complained walking in with the bottle and a glass for his sister.

They ate and drank. They played cards and Scrabble and drank some more. They talked a bit about Bens' job, Sophie's job, and Lauren's work but not too much as she waved it away as too boring for words. "Believe me," she told them. "Big banking, big money equals big yawns."

"Yeah, but that's why you get the big bucks." Ben chimed in.

Lauren rolled her eyes and groaned, poking her thumb out toward her brother while her gaze locked on Nicky. "You really like this goofball?

"Of course she does!" Ben mock-roared, pulling Nicky in for a quick kiss, claiming her as his in front of his sister. "Ah, nothing like sisterly love." Ben told Sophie as they settled back into the folds of the couch.

"Any sisters for you Sophie?" Lauren asked.

"Um, yeah. One, younger. And a brother. Older." She nodded.

"Ah, beware the middle child," Lauren teased. "Always looking for attention."

"No, I—" Nicky didn't know why she was answering and tried to stop. She looked to Ben for help and he misunderstood her intent.

"Sophie hasn't spoken to her family in a while. But they're mending fences, right, Soph?

Nicky reddened, not wanting to talk about this at all. "Um. Yeah, trying anyway." She sighed a bit and toughened up. "So, who's up for a movie?"

They watched an old movie and when it was over Ben and Nicky stood up and stretched.

It was very late, nearing early. Lauren assured them that she'd clean up after they assured her that they were fine to take the walk back to Sophie's. "Don't worry about it," she told them as they walked to the door. "Ben will tell you I'm a bit of neat freak. I like to clean, even at this hour." She reached for the girl and gave her a gentle hug. "It was great meeting you Sophie."

Lauren Carpenter's didn't touch the mess in her apartment, nor did it bother her. The door clicked shut and she locked it behind them, a worried look on her pretty face.

She went immediately for the computer and checked a familiar webpage. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. "Shit." She grabbed the phone, dialed and waited for the familiar click and heard the voice: "Code in please."


	5. Crumble

"Are you sure?" the voice on the other end of the phone demanded gruffly. "Are you sure?" This was important.

Lauren Carpenter didn't work for a bank. She was in fact a Logistics Officer in undercover ops for the CIA. Her work didn't cause her to lose sleep at night. She wasn't sending assassins out for their kills. She oversaw training for new agents and was their baseline handler until they rose in rank and were reassigned. She worked out of Barcelona but new agents came through Rome every twelve weeks and she'd meet her contacts there and get them started with physicals and paperwork for a few days until they all returned to Barcelona for more training.

"Agent Carpenter. Again. The woman you saw tonight. Was it Nicky Parsons?" The question, if answered correctly, would set in motion a radical chain of events.

Lauren threw a quick look back at the computer screen where the CIA's Wanted picture of Nicolette Parsons looked back. Her main picture was at the top left, info about her on the right and a variety of looks she might be wearing along the bottom. None matched exactly but the face was the same as the girl she met tonight. She was positive. _Christ Ben, what the hell are you mixed up in?_ Whatever it was she wanted him far away from it and from the trouble this girl was sure to bring.

"That's affirmative, sir."

She gave a quick run down of the limited information she had, answered questions the best she could, and looked around at her apartment wondering how many hairs Nicky/Sophie had left behind, how many fingerprints. Her eyes settled on the empty wine glass that up until recently Nicky had held and sipped from. Fingerprints and DNA would be quick and easy.

**MOROCCO**

Jason sat back in his chair at the internet cafe and wiped the light film of sweat from his face. His phone was in front of him with a pad of paper that was nearly full with scribbled notes. He'd remembered his past as David Webb but didn't truly trust the memories. Whatever he remembered he cross-checked, writing down the facts as he found them. So far, he found, his memories weren't faulty, but they were still spotty. It seemed that when David Webb became Jason Bourne et al, his memories had been dripped with acid and had fragmented holes burned into them. He could remember missions but not necessarily where he was living at that time ,or what his plans had been. He could remember entering the Paris safe house for meets with Nicky but not actually meeting with Nicky. He had knowledge but not the memory. There was a difference and that's what drove him now.

Nicky. He paused, sighing. He thought of her often, hoping she was okay. He'd gotten word that she had in fact used the contact he'd given her in Seville but past that he just didn't know. He'd asked a few trusted contacts to be on the lookout for her face, her name, but there hadn't been much to go on. He thought grimly that he'd probably never know. He could try and track her maybe but why? If she was safe he'd stay away, leave well enough alone. No matter how badly he wanted to know if she was alive and well, to talk to her.

He went back to his work, revisiting his footsteps as David Webb, locating Jason Bourne's old haunts. His cell phone buzzed and danced in front of him.

"What?" he answered, not prepared for the words that came next.

"Your girl's in trouble," came the thickly accented voice on the other end. The trade was made, money for information, and the meet was set. Who'd made Nicky Parsons?

He found out that evening at a soccer match. While watching the Atlas Lions play the opposing team he spoke to his meet. Behind cups of beer and pointing out information in the program he'd gotten the gist of what had happened.

_Rome. Named the bar she'd been working at, her address, her look. Her man. Someone on the inside found her, called her in. She's a match. Under surveillance. A risk they can't allow. Things are bad enough for your government friends, with a first hand witness they're even worse. Gonna take her out. _

Jason sat in silence listening to the onslaught of information. When the woman was done speaking he got up and walked out. He was bound for Rome.


	6. Chapter 6

The team was in place near dawn sweeping through the Carpenter apartment. A sheet from the laundry, a washcloth from the bathroom, the wine glass from tonight. Some samples would come back belonging to Lauren; the rest would identify Nicolette Parsons, CIA fugitive, as having been a guest. By mid day they had the positive match.

Lauren was in the Rome office when she heard the news. While she was happy to have curried some favor with the higher ups, this news would devastate her brother. He'd be brought in and debriefed. No charges would be filed. He thought her name was Sophia Kane, a quiet girl he'd met in a bar in just outside of the center of Rome.

Her bureau chief found her and seemed to know her thoughts. He pulled a chair from an empty desk and sat with her.

"It might not be a bad idea for your brother to…be away for a few days. While we bring in Nicky Parsons."

"You think it'll go bad?" God, for Ben's sake she hoped not.

He wouldn't say. "Maybe a quick weekend trip."

Without his girlfriend? How the hell could she convince him of that? But she nodded. She'd try. "This weekend." He added.

Shit. It was already Thursday.

Lauren thought fast and got on the internet. After a minute she'd found what she was looking for and picked up the phone. Feigning a perky voice she waited for Ben to answer so she could tell him about this great ski trip she'd been given last minute by a happy client. Private banking did have its privileges.

He watched her work, another face at the rear of the bar. It hadn't been hard to track her but not too easy either. The thought gave him comfort; if he'd had any sort of difficulty then he was sure anyone else would have had more.

Her hair was longer than it was the night she'd gotten on that bus. The night she'd cut it--another sacrifice she made for him. The shade had grown out some, not nearly as dark anymore. The sun had kissed it and made it lighter. He admitted to himself that he liked it. It looked less like Marie's. Was that the reason or was there something else?

She poured and smiled in passing as she gave out drinks and slipped bills into the register. He watched her watch the crowd again and again always turning his head or tying his shoe when his part of the crowd was scanned. Good, he'd thought. Taking inventory of her surroundings was important and he was glad to see her do it. He watched her pour and work as a spotty memory crept forward.

_A big clock counting time, cheering voices, she passed by in a steady blur. "Go! Yes! Good pace! That's it!" His voice, yelling. A quick smile to him as she went by and his skin warmed. _

_Then, heat from a close by fire. Taut skin in his hands, kneading and rubbing. Murmurs of pleasure from her. Nicky's voice. Drinking from a bottle filled with yellow liquor, Her idea, not his but he'd gone along "Tender kisses turning passionate, strong. Feeling her beneath him, surrounding him, loving him. _

It had been a vivid memory and his eyes were wet. He pushed it back and watched her some more before claiming a watchful post outside.

A drink came out from the crowd and back to the bar. Out of the corner of her eye she saw it appear back on the counter. Nicky looked around to see who the small glass belonged to but no one seemed to be without. She pulled the glass to her.

Limoncello. She'd loved this drink once. Years before. Without her knowledge the small smile crept across her face as she remembered the night she'd had too much. She'd run a marathon and had finished with a not too shabby time, and she was proud of herself. Jason had been there, happy for her, had helped her train for it. And they'd celebrated. With shots of Limocello in front of the fire in her apartment. They'd shared the bottle while he rubbed her feet, her calves, had kissed and touched and loved the pains away. The hangover the next day had been a well invested payment for the night they'd shared.

Immediately her smile left as she caught herself in the memory, saw her fingertips dancing around the glass. And then the voice spoke to her in Italian.

"Is that for me?" A drunken customer.

"Scusa, no." She shook her head, smiling and tried for English. "Or. Did you order this?" She held up the glass, questioning.

He answered in accented English. "I'd take it if you'd touch me the same way." He seemed harmless but her guard was up. Under the bar she palmed the zester, ready to use it first to graze and take surprise, then to stab and maim. Then she'd run. She always had these plans of attack. Knew which instrument was kept where and what it's best use would be.

She rolled her eyes at him. "I can touch you with this." She added some flirt to her voice as she showed him the zester. He moved on.

"Maria?" She called to the other bartender. "Did you pour this?"

"I don't know," the older woman called back. "It's busy tonight." She finished what she was doing and wiped her hands on her bar apron. "Let me see..." She smelled it. "Limoncello."

"I know, it's just..." She smiled and dismissed the drink, pouring it down the sink. "Never mind."

A few hours later Ben came in.

"Hey!" She greeted him with a bright smile. "No band tonight. What are you doing here?"

"Come take a break." He leaned forward on and over the bar and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the end. Maria nodded that it was fine.

They walked outside where she huddled her arms around herself in the chill and looked at him expectantly.

"First off…hi." He grinned and bent to kiss her. A loving kiss.

Nicky pulled back first as she always did. "Hi." She grinned back.

"So listen." He told her. "I have news." He filled her in on Lauren's ski trip invitation.

"Davos?" Nicky's brow furrowed "Switzerland?"

Ben nodded, excited. "Come on. It'll be fun!"

"Yeah, it'll be fun for you watching me fall on my ass." She retorted. "I don't ski."

He stepped forward and his arms went around her. "Well, there are other things to do there besides ski," he murmured, kissing her hairline down around her ear to her neck.

"No fair," she told him just before he left her neck and kissed her mouth, a long and lazy kiss.

"Skiing, huh?" She was beginning to give in. Maybe getting out of Italy, if even for a few days, would be a good thing. She'd been here for a while which she was proud of. Had stayed off the grid as much as possible, kept up a decent strength training and endurance program, kept her senses sharp. But a change of scenery might be good.

They stayed outside for a few more minutes and talked about the trip. Nicky didn't like that she'd be going without an invitation. But Ben had whispered that it would be their secret and besides, Lauren had already reserved two rooms. His eyebrows had gone up and down, insinuating the fun they could have covertly, making a ridiculous face.

"It could be fun," she'd conceded. He'd drive with Lauren and she'd take the train. Neither of them paid attention to the few cars that passed by, the bikers, the couples out for an evening walk. But the dark coated figure that had been watching Nicky inside did, and made mental notes while staying hidden in the shadows.


	7. Chapter 7

The men and women had been sitting around the table for more than two hours planning how to finally contain the Blackbriar case. One witness was recently found and needed to be removed. _Did they just have a meeting about this_? Wondered one of the newer agents. He'd read about this shit but this was his first time being on one of these teams. He reminded himself of his dream of rising through the ranks._ It starts here. _He wanted to impress

The three other faces were solemn as their plan was pushed into motion. It wasn't unheard of for gas mains to explode. It was unfortunate that innocent lives might be affected but containment would insure that they were kept to a minimum.

By business Monday there would be sighs of relief in DC.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Nicky stepped out into the cool air holding the large black knapsack over her shoulder. The wetness was a refreshing contrast to the dry heat there'd been inside. While it did feel good she was unnerved by the sudden change. She'd been unnerved by many things today. For a reason she couldn't name she'd felt eyes on her wherever she went; walking to work, at work. Now.

She needed time to think. Was she just caught of guard by this trip with Ben? Or was her gut telling her that something in the Big Picture just wasn't right? Jason had told her if something didn't feel right then it probably wasn't. Looking down the street at the line of upcoming cars she got ready to signal a cab.

"I want to see the sights." She told the driver when she was inside.

"At this hour signora? "

"Just drive"She slumped back against the seat. "Please." She grabbed onto her bag, the one she'd dug out from its hidden yet convenient place under the sink, wedged between the pipes, and unzippered it. She stared at the contents and hoped she was just being paranoid. _Cautious._ She told herself. _If you don't need it then so the better. Consider it a drill. _

Nicky fingered the cash and IDs—gifts from Jason's contact back in Seville. She'd added the sneakers and clothing, first aid kit, the gun and the boxes of bullets and made sure that everything she'd put in there when she first put the bag away was still there. It was.

They had been driving all night and had just rounded the entrance to Vatican City. The sun would be up soon and Nicky was half-dozing in the backseat. A flash in her mind's eye made her sit up and grab her bag again. She fished inside before coming up with what she was looking for—a train schedule.

"Signore," she told the driver. "The train station."

The sun was coming up as her car pulled in. She made sure to wait until the line formed a little to buy her ticket and when it was safely in her pocket she ran for the train. She looked forward to two things: Sleeping on the train and seeing Ben later.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Jason had watched her come outside and stop. He was in the shadows and so close he could smell the alcohol and her own sweet scent mixing together in the heavy air. He'd already taken care of the two-man team that had been assigned to watch her and now it was his turn alone.

When he saw her eyes switch to the oncoming traffic he'd known what she'd do. Quickly he darted across the street and grabbed the first cab in line, allowing the second to go to around and to her. He took his time telling the driver where to go, fumbling for his Italian.

As her cab pulled away he spoke in more even tones and he in fluent Italian. "My friends are leaving without me. There." He pointed up ahead to the cab that had just pulled away from the curb and ignored the driver's surprised look. "Can you follow them please? I have a hundred extra Euros if you can catch up."

The driver smiled and accelerated, following the other cab.

Thirty minutes into the ride he caught the driver's concerned looks being thrown into the rearview mirror.

"Another hundred to keep driving. Go where they go."

The driver was nervous but needed the money and so he drove on.

When the other car finally stopped at the train station the driver was happy to take his money—all of it—and even happier that his fare was complete.

Jason followed Nicky into the train station and bought his ticket to Davos not far behind her. She was aware of her surroundings he could tell, but he could also see her fatigue and her fear.

He'd successfully and more importantly quietly, taken care of the two man team that had been assigned to follow Nicky. They could now board the train safely.

They were together on the same train, each in a different car. He waited until he was sure the rocking of the train had lulled her to sleep before he took a quick walk. He apologized to the man who sat behind her as he quietly tripped over an imaginary item and fell against him. Nicky stirred but didn't feel the weight of the phone that had been added to her pocket.

Jason went back to his seat and put in an earpiece. He watched her car door and listened to the news on a radio channel. How long would it take until the two men were found at the station? That news story would tell me how much time they had.

Jason was half asleep when something made him bolt upright. _Via Cavour 312_. A local news report from Rome was coming into his ear. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, listening and trying to piece together the information through his sleep deprived brain.Was it the train station piece? _Via Cavour 312_. Shit! That was Nicky's street. Fuck! That was Nicky's address _Conduttura del gas. _He sighed and rubbed his face. Gas main explosion.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The first transmission had been promising. "Detonation affirmative."

They listened to the local police chatter and took reports from agents on the street. All seemed to be going to plan.

"And we're sure Parsons was on site." Demanded the officer in charge.

The young agent nodded, gathering his files and handed them to his superior. "

The mane leafed through them and then stopped. Cold. He stared at the younger agent.

"You're missing reports." He rifled papers until he found what he was looking for. "Hale and Canon. They were tailing her. Where are their latest reports? The logs shows their latest check in 3 hours ago." The agent stared at him. This couldn't be possible. He'd painstakingly compiled all that they had on this girl.

"_**Christ!"**_ he roared to the room in general. "Do we even know if this girl was _**home**__?"_

Suddenly the agent who'd dreamed of rising through the ranks had a very sure feeling that he would be having a very bad year. And then some.

"Okay people let's hope that pieces of Nicky Parsons are still sizzling around Trastevere." He went on, sarcastically. "But let's get some confirmation just to make me feel better." To his aide he snapped, "Pretending Parsons _wasn't _at home, let's get a new team in place and find me that girl."


	8. Chapter 8

The couple who was not traveling together arrived in Davos late in the afternoon. She took a shuttle to the ski resort and easily found the house phone. Nicky called Ben's room but there was no answer. She was still tired despite the sleep she'd had on the train. Her body ached for a bed, for Ben to hold her, to feel like there hadn't been a need to run last night.

Looking around she found a seating area tucked in a corner. Oversized and overstuffed furniture dotted around one of the many large fireplaces the enormous lobby boasted. She took off her coat, and took a seat, confident in her being hidden. Lauren was a guest here and hadn't invited Nicky. So here in Switzerland, Nicky hid from Lauren.

She pulled her coat back to her and reached in to a pocket for her phone. She dialed Ben.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

A woman with an earpiece pushed back from her computer and turned toward her superior.

"Sir, we have an incoming call on Ben Carpenter's cell."

"Let's hear it," he replied

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The phone rang 5 times and she was ready to hang up when he finally answered.

"Ben, it's me. Where are you?"

"Hi! I can't really talk now." He was in the car and shot his sister a sidelong glance. "Lauren and I just did a quick tour of the area. Let me call you when we're back. About 10 minutes."

"I'm in the lobby." She told him. "By the fireplace with the animal carvings."

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

The agent typed on her keyboard and looked back up to her boss.

"Call came from Davos Ski Resort. Switzerland."

He nodded, pleased. "Find out who we have in that area. We need eyes there. Check the hotel records there and in the area. And fax her picture over to Davos—the hotel and local authorities. If she's there we need to find her. "

She got right on it.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Going to put the cell phone back in her pocket turned into an entirely event then she'd planned. Dropping the one phone in she realized that it had company. Her heart pounded as she palmed it and knew immediately what it was. The fact that it had found a home in her pocket at some point meant that he was near. Here. It could only be Jason.

For two minutes she held it in her pocket, refusing to take it out. It hadn't rung or shook and so she held it, swallowing hard, refusing to look around.

And then it did ring. And Nicky jumped.

The volume was set on too high of a setting for her to let it ring without causing a distraction. Purposeful. She took a breath and, shaking, opened the phone. She found she couldn't find her voice.

"You got out just in time." His voice. "Good job."

Her face peeked around the chair she was sitting in but she didn't see him among the skiers bustling around the busy lobby. "Where are you?" _No emotion Nicky,_ she told herself. _All business. Good._

"Right here." She felt his body warmth immediately push out the chill of the empty space that had been next to her. But she couldn't look at him yet. Instead, quietly and slowly she hung up the phone and left it next to her, keeping her head low and her eyes averted.

Awkward silence as she tried to gauge her emotions. Too tired to process she veered from anger that he'd put her on that damn bus to begin with, that he hadn't known her or wanted to; fear that he was here and what that meant; sorrow—heartbroken to know that just his presence made her forget her current feelings for another and longed for him to recognize her again. And in last place, joy. Joy to see him in front of her, alive and unharmed.

She cleared her throat and fought tears. "Why are you here?"

"Nicky—" He began.

"Sophie." She corrected and turned sharply to face him.

"Right." He'd named her. One of three identities he'd given her through the Seville contact. And he smiled to himself. "I think that one was my favorite." Back to serious. "You've been made."

"What…? How…?" She looked around the lobby again eyeing the people, looking for trouble.

He wouldn't tell her about her tail, her apartment, the explosion. Not now. "It doesn't matter now, we need to go."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" She was incredulous. Did he really think she'd follow that blindly?

"You used my contact in Seville. You trusted that." He paused. "Trust me now."

Nicky stared at Jason, her chest heaving while her heart pounded and she tried to sort through the pieces. IF she'd been made then yes she had to go, Ben would be in danger. But if she was SAFE….but had she felt safe? Why did she take the bag with her? Why not go home last night? She looked at Jason and into his eyes. He'd never lied to her. He wasn't lying now.

In that moment Ben walked in, and eyed the interaction between Nicky and the strange man nervously.

"Everything okay here?" He looked at Nicky.

Nicky was lost. This was too much at once and she couldn't find one clear thought. "Hey...yeah." Her tone was too wispy and unconvincing. Ben knew there was something wrong but before he could do anything about it Jason stepped forward and put out a hand while throwing a quick look at Nicky.

"Hey, how are ya?" He offered easily, negating the tension in the air. "Sorry 'bout that. I'm John." Jason waited for his reply, allowing him to fill in the pieces. After all, didn't everyone know a John?

"Ohh, shit," Nicky muttered and turned away.

"John? Your broth--?" Ben looked from Jason to Nicky with his huge smile broadening. "Well, that's great!" He strongly took Jason's outstretched hand and pumped it. "Nice to meet you, John."

Ben looked to Nicky, taking her scowl for disdain over her brother's appearance. "Did you know...?" he asked her.

Looking directly at Jason she answered with a sharp and clear, "No." She fumed inside. Ben shouldn't be involved in this.

"Well look," he looked to Jason. "Would you give us a second?" He asked Jason, pulling Nicky to the side.

"Sure, that's fine," Jason replied, backing up slightly, surveying the lobby.

"Stay here." Ben told her as they stopped near the wall. He put his hands on Nicky's shoulders and spoke to her emphatically. "Talk to your brother."

"He's not---" Nicky bit her tongue. What was she going to say? That he wasn't her brother? She found her words. "He's not...easy…to talk to."

"Try." He smiled at her. " Our room is 4112." He slipped her a key card and she tried to smile. All she'd wanted ten minutes ago was to be with him and now she wanted him to be as far away as possible. Far away and safe. "Meet me later for a drink and tell me about him. Maybe bring him along." He looked back over his shoulder at the athletic looking man who had sat in a stuffed chair with his back to the wall, people watching.

Nicky sighed. She nodded at him and rested her forehead against his chest. "You don't think it's…strange ? Him just showing up like this?" She whispered. What brought him to Switzerland? Why not Rome? Why now? She realized in a flash that something had happened. Something Big. And she trembled.

Ben felt the shudder and gathered her in for a hug. "I think you do what you have to for the people that you love." He smoothed her hair. "He's your brother. You told him about our trip and this is where he came--he obviously wants to make things right. Hell, he traveled all the way here to talk to you." He pushed her back slightly. "Sophie, you know how much I want you to be happy. And it just has always seemed like your family problems got in the way of that. Now's your chance to put it all behind you. Make peace." He told her, seriously.

She grinned, looking up at him. He was genuine and wonderful and even now made her smile. "You are so corny." She laughed.

He did too as he pulled her in for a long kiss. Then, pushing her hair back off her face. "I'll see you tonight. Go."

She looked at Jason who'd been watching them intently and then back to Ben. She knew what had to be done. "Yeah." She nodded. "Just…." She was frozen, staring up at him. "Wait…" She wrapped her arms up and around, held him tight and kissed him, trying to convey what she'd never said, hadn't been able to say, hadn't been sure she felt.

This time it was Ben who pulled back first and he held her chin, watching her. "You okay?" His eyes searched hers.

"Mm, hmm." She smiled at him and wiped a tear. "I just…I'm so glad I met you."

"Now, who's being corny?" he laughed. He pointed toward Jason. "Now stop stalling. Go. I'll see you later."

"Okay," She whispered. Only she knew she wouldn't. Ben strode through the lobby and Nicky watched until he was gone. She reasserted her bag on her shoulder and walked back to Jason, hating herself more and more with each step. She wouldn't meet his gaze. "Where are we going?"


	9. Chapter 9

"Where are we going?" Nicky had asked, once again putting her trust and her life in his hands.

He wouldn't give a definitive answer. "Let's go." Jason looked over his shoulder as they walked forward and she followed his lead through the lobby. "Look to your left," he told her as they passed the long check in area and the concierge desk. "Keep walking. Head for the far staircase, down."

Nicky did as she was told and reminded herself to breathe as she walked. They made it to the far staircase and took the downstairs set in double-time. "They're probably here. No matter what, just keep walking."

They were through a large laundry-room where the workers, busy folding, and ironing, gave them curious looks but no one panicked at their presence. They were through, turned down a corridor and arrived at the delivery entrance.

He threw her a fast look and she responded with a nod and, "Ready." He opened the door and they saw evening had fallen; both were grateful for the dark cover.

The team came through the front doors and methodically went to their predetermined directions: Security, surveillance office, registration, and main areas leading to potential hideaways. The registration desk didn't have Nicky Parsons or Sophia Kane on record but the surveillance cameras revealed her talking to a man in the lobby. Now they went to work finding out who he was.

It wasn't long until they matched the picture from the surveillance tape to the picture from Benjamin Carpenter's travel visa, and only a moment later found his room number.

The streets were busy. People crowded up and down either on their way to or from the base of a mountain, on their way to dinner, drinks or a resort bed.

They walked briskly through the crowded streets, trying not become separated. As a precaution Jason reached out to touch her, to take her by the arm and guide her through the crowd.

She felt his touch and involuntary recoiled. She didn't know if she'd been on her own too long to want someone to guide her again, or if it was the memory of being touched by him in other ways. Either way she hadn't meant to wince.

He felt it. Was she scared he'd hurt her? Or was it just his touch. A memory squirreled out the reality in front of him and he squinted, slowing down.

Nicky was startled by his sudden lack of speed. She gave a sidelong look and saw his face.

"You okay?"

Nodding, he guided her inside an alley. Her back felt the bricks of a building and she was nervous. "Jason, what--"

His arm came up sharply over her head and the palm of his hand found the wall. His face was close to hers and she could feel him breathing heavily. To any passerby they would look like a young couple in love, talking, nuzzling, maybe even kissing.

Police sirens wailed in the distance and were getting louder by the second.

Nicky's adrenaline was still flowing but she was becoming concerned. "Hey, are you…"

He heard her but it was her voice from long ago. In his memory the sight of them on a bed came clearly in to focus. She lay next to him barely draped in the top sheet, her eyes closed, mouth curved into a dreamy smile.

"You okay?" he asked her, solemnly. He stroked her shoulder and she jumped.

"Mmm, hmm. But don't. Not yet," she murmured. "Too much."

Her senses were still reeling from their lovemaking and she couldn't take even his simple touch without feeling as though she'd scream and blow apart.

He settled onto a propped elbow and grinned. "Really?"

"Shut up." Her eyes were still closed.

"Really." His tone was self-congratulatory and she laughed, opening her eyes.

It was on the tip of her tongue to say something sarcastic, something silly, but one look at him and she changed her mind. "Yeah," she conceded.

"Too bad then," he told her softly, and leaned down for a slow and passionate kiss.

Jason was back in the present and could see her clearly now right in front of him. Cheeks pinked from the cold, clear eyes that showed her personal fear mixed with concern for him. His breathing was slightly ragged and he stared for a second too long; she knew something had happened though if it was physical or emotional she couldn't tell.

"Are you okay?" What's going on?" She was concerned for him but also knew that they had to keep moving.

And so did he, "Yeah," he whispered, hoarse. "Let's go." He sniffed and straightened up, turning toward the mouth of the alley. This wasn't the time.

Nicky hadn't moved yet. "Let's go," he repeated.

She nodded, watching him intently. She realized that subconsciously she'd waited for him to reach for her, to guide her forward. But he hadn't this time. And so her feet moved on their own following his direction.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

There was banging on the door to room 4112. Ben got up to answer the door and stumbled backward at the force with which it opened

A handful of men and women charged in, checking the bathroom, closet, and bedroom, yelling "Clear" along the way. He realized he hadn't said anything to this invasion and regained his voice. "What the hell is going on?!" he yelled.

"Benjamin Carpenter?" One man stepped forward from the back of the small crowd now occupying the room and flashed a badge. "We have to talk..."

Later, in a hallway Lauren's superior spoke to her, told her Ben's denials were plausible. _We believe he knew nothing about Nicky Parsons. A pawn. Charges won't be pressed. He'll be watched should Nicky initiate contact but he's free to go_. _One thing still being tasked—trying to find the brother that was there. No history of a brother. No picture. Still running footage trying to catch a glimpse._

She went to Ben's newly reassigned room and found him pale and shaken. She pretended to not know anything, and faked a smile that purposely disappeared as soon as she saw him.

"Bunny, what's wrong?" she asks, feigning worry. "What's going on?"

He looked at her with wide eyes full of sorrow and betrayal. "Lauren, you just won't believe it," he told her, disbelieving.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Nicky sat in the passenger seat of the car and stared out the window, watching the snowy scenery go by. Aside from the hum of the engine and the wet road being driven over, all was quiet.

They were both happily surprised with the relative ease with which they'd gotten out of town. They had both luck and time on their side in that they were a good ten minutes ahead of the order and picture that came through to the resort and local police. By the time the Davos team had found the few surveillance frames showing Nicky with Jason Bourne walking in a sub basement stairwell exit they were well on their way out of town on a full tank of gas.

Jason was glad he'd come for her. He really hadn't had any other choice, he realized. There had been an inexplicable _need_ to come for her, to be with her again. The last time they were together he felt it, this draw to her. But at the time he couldn't repeat the steps he'd taken with Marie, the steps that had gotten her killed. At the time he'd needed to distance himself from her, to rid himself of the distraction she brought. The chase in Tangiers had solidified his thoughts; when he'd been terrified not to find her at the café, had seen Desh stalking her. He'd felt responsible for her and couldn't bear that burden. But this time Nicky had been in trouble and he couldn't do anything _but_ try and stop it.

Now that it was said and done, now that she was here and safe he didn't know what to do. Were there expectations and if so what were they? In some ways they fit so well and in others he just didn't feel as though he knew her at all. He reminded himself that it had been a long time since he _had_known her, that he was only beginning to remember how his personal past intertwined with the professional.

He knew she'd been there before the gone-bad mission in Marseille, and he felt familiar with her. Always had even if he hadn't consciously realized it. But now they were here and he was without a next step, which for him was unheard of. He knew he had to make a start and then see which direction to go.

He drove, and looked at her quickly, then eyes back to the road. "I never…" He cleared his throat. "Thank you." It was a start. A stab at conversation.

Nicky was startled at both the disruption of silence and with his words. "For what?" _He was thanking her?_

"Helping me. Believing me, I guess. What you did…." He shook his head, still amazed at the sacrifice she made. He hadn't asked or expected her help but there she'd been offering it time and again. "…and then Madrid…" he trailed off. He wasn't apologetic, would never be. But he appreciated her quiet ways there; how she hadn't cried or asked to stay. She'd listened to him; given him space, and it had been easier that way. Ultimately, he'd done what he'd done for a reason.

She nodded, knowing what he hadn't said. The bus. After leaving Ben at the hotel she'd realized she'd basically done to him what Jason had done to her. It had been done for safety. For life.

"No. I get it." She assured him along with herself. "But I think I'm the one who needs to say 'thank you.'" Davos was easily 100 miles behind them but she turned to see for herself that there was nothing but road. Relieved, her eyes went to the cold hands in her lap. "I thought…I thought I was pretty careful.

His eyes drifted to the bag at her feet. He'd assumed what it was, what was in it, and been glad to see her with it. "You seem to have done okay." And it was quiet for a moment until he spoke again. "We're gonna have to talk." There was so much she needed to know; her apartment, her…that guy, Ben.

She knew it too and nodded while looking back out the window. She thought her world had crumbled once before, but it seemed like the cracks were beginning to show again.

Hours later they were in Paris. The car was wiped down and left behind. Together they arrived at the doorway of an elegant but cold looking building.. He keyed the door and they rode the elevator to the fifth floor where he keyed another door and opened it. He walked in and turned; surprised that she hadn't followed.

Nicky peered in, surprised to see a neatly furnished apartment. She didn't know what she'd expected---a cot and a hot plate maybe? No, nothing that sparse. But she hadn't expected regular.

"This is your apartment?" She walked in slowly, looking around.

"When I need it."

She sat on a brown leather couch and looked around. The shots of greenery surprised her. "Who waters your plants?" Small talk. Avoiding the topic of being here.

"They're fake." Short answers. But what did she expect? They weren't on a date, weren't friends. He'd felt like he owed her and so he'd come for her. Nicky realized she didn't know what she'd expected when she chose to leave with Jason. Safety for Ben was one thing but now what about her? Would he set her up with a new identity and send her on her way again? She closed her eyes to the thought, unwilling to even entertain the idea for now. Later maybe.

Jason noticed. "You should get some sleep," he told her. "Bedroom is down the hall."

She stared at him, uncertainty written across her face.

"I'll be here. We can talk then."

She continued to watch him, trying to guess what they'd talk about. How long she'd stay? What help he'd give? Would he want information about his past? She sighed and walked past him, holding her bag in front of her.

Nicky rummaged through her bag and found what she was looking for. A lightweight pair of pants and a short-sleeved top. She changed and stared at the bed, wondering how long it had been since his body had touched the cool sheets, if anyone had joined him. Closing her eyes she willed the thought and others like it from her mind. She lay on the bed and turned her thoughts to Ben. She truly hoped that he would be okay. She knew she'd never have the chance to say she was sorry, to thank him for saving her in Rome, for befriending her, for…loving her. Had she used him? She wondered. She hoped not. It had never been her intention to hurt him. As she drifted to sleep she allowed herself to see Ben's smile, to remember nights in his apartment, in his bed, with him. She had to start over again.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

She slept a dead sleep and woke, groggy. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was and who she was with, and a few more to force herself up out of the warm bed.

She padded softly into the living room. Jason was cleaning handguns and checking ammunition clips. He didn't look up from his work as she leaned against the doorjamb.

"Why did you come for me?" It was a loaded question, she knew. But there was more than one way to answer it. It would be his choice.

He looked up and watched her for a long moment, sizing up her readiness to accept what had happened. "I gave you a contact in Seville."

Nicky nodded.

Jason continued. "He, and a few others…I asked them to keep an eye out, listen for your name. The ones you had. One of them heard about you being made-"

She cut him off. "How was I made?"

This would be the second hardest part. "The guy you were with—"

"Ben?"

"His sister—she's ops. She made you and called it in. Pretty basic."

Nicky's mouth was open. It was so simple. It seemed so wrong and yet she knew—she knew it was all right. "Not in banking." She murmured to herself.

Jason let out a long breath. He'd prepared himself for her arguments but innately she knew he told the truth. And now for the worst of it.

"There's more."

"Ben?!" her eyes went wild and he noted it instantly. He'd only seen them together briefly and knew they were lovers. Basic body language told him as much. But he'd thought that real feelings might not have come into play so soon. He thought she'd have needed someone to make her feel safe, to make her feel normal again. He understood that. But had she developed real feelings for him?

He shook his head, calming her down. "Not involved." Then, double-checking, "You kept him completely out of it?"

"Of course, completely." she replied.

"They'll question him—maybe not so nicely, but he'll come out okay."

Nicky's guilt ratcheted up a notch. She tried to quell it with the knowledge that if she hadn't left he'd be in much worse trouble.

"They're still coming for you." He told her grimly, quietly.

Her eyes went down. "I know. I'll…" she was about to talk out a plan but realized she didn't have even the beginnings of one.

"You can't go back to Rome."

She nodded. She figured that, knew her apartment would be watched.

"Your apartment is gone."

She nodded again.

"They blew it. Made it look like a gas main explosion."

She paled immediately and her hand went to her mouth. "My ap—my apartment blew up?" She was sick. "All the people…" She pictured the neighbors who had left her alone but still smiled in greeting. The couple that argued from down the hall, the girl who practiced piano in the early morning before school. Oh God, she hoped the girl had been at school! Nicky's stomach lurched and she knew she couldn't keep it together. She turned and ran for the bathroom, sick from guilt and responsibility.

When she returned his eyes were kind but no words were spoken. He couldn't make it better for her but he could give her time and space. She sat on the couch and he went back to work. Drawing her knees up she watched him.

Her eyes on him made him nervous, especially in the silence. He worked, taking quick breaks, eyes going to his watch in quick flickers.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

He kept working. "No."

"You keep looking at your watch."

"I guess." It was a watch. It told the time. But he did look at it a lot, he realized. Even when he didn't need to. Sometimes, he realized, just seeing it gave him a sense of ease. A thought came to him as he stared at the sliver piece.

He stopped. "Where did I get it?"

She didn't want to hand over information about their past, a past that, as much as her heart hated it, was exactly that, the past. But overall she loved him and wanted to see him whole. And so she'd help where she could.

"Can I…" she motioned to him and he crossed to her, removing the timepiece and handed it to her. Feeling a bit stronger she reached out and ran a finger over the bumpy wrist piece. "You'd had one. But…you had an assignment that got messy." She breathed. "I never knew all the details but one day it was just gone. Your wrist and hand were…bruised." Her lips flattened as she remembered the purple and red blotches, the fingers taped together. "You needed a new one." She half shrugged. "I gave it to you."

He was quiet a moment. "I don't remember that." He apologized.

Nicky knew and gave him a wan smile. "I didn't expect you to." She was being honest. "It's okay." She handed back the watch and started to get up.

"Nicky." She froze. He didn't call her by name often and something about the way he said it this time made her stand still. She slowly turned back to him but didn't sit.

"I don't remember the watch," he repeated. "But…I do re---" He grimaced, unsure of how to say it. "There's a lot that's come back, that's coming back."

She bit her bottom lip not daring to take the bait. "That's good," she told him gently. She didn't want another rejection and, in defense, retreated to the kitchen. She turned the knob that would heat the teapot on the stove and stood, waiting, fingers drumming on the counter.

His voice came from behind her. "Do you still like to run?"

It took a second for the nature of the question to fully register in Nicky's brain and her eyes blinked before she could look at him full on. "To run?" She swallowed.

He was serious, trying to link to his past. "Mm, hm. I mean, I know no marathons…" He gave her a wry smile. "But, just…to run."

She answered carefully. "I do like to. But—" she paused. "I haven't. Not much." She watched his face and imagined her own as they began this dance that she was completely unprepared for.

Jason nodded, trying to continue the conversation, trying to keep it as natural as possible. "And eating a sandwich…do you still pick it apart?"

She smiled and looked down. "I try not to." She looked back at him and admitted. "But yeah, I do." Inside she was reeling. He remembered her? Aspects of her? Them? What? How much? She didn't think she could take his flinging information at her like this no matter how glad she was that he had it. There had to be some semblance of control for her.

"Listen…Jason." Saying his name out loud, to him, sounded nearly foreign to her. She'd thought it over and over again but rarely verbalized it. "You pitch. I'll throw back."

And so they sat facing each other at a bare dining table, hands on the top.

"Topic?" she started.

"Treadstone in Paris." Keep it simple.

She nodded curtly, waiting for the question, nausea at the memories creeping up.

His question came quickly. "How did we…meet?" Her answer wasn't immediate so he continued. "I know you handled logistics and maintained health records for the agents. But—how did we—"

Despite herself she smiled at the early memory. She swallowed and began. "It's pretty simple, really." She sat back in the high backed chair. "Actually it's kind of stupid. I always said I should have known better, should have—" She stopped short realizing that instead of giving him his information she was mostly talking to herself. She stopped, gave a quick apologetic smile and began again. "You'd come to the Paris safe house for medical debriefs on assigned dates. Right. So---we 'd go over your symptoms—" At his look she was more specific. "Your headaches, light sensitivity, tremors sometimes…" She drew herself up a bit and went on. "So you left. We were done, no big deal. I worked late and locked up. Outside, there was this guy. No big threat, just a thug. He'd been there before, watching." Her voice dropped a bit. "I'd told Conklin and I guess I just assumed…" She trailed off and then went on. "So that night I was walking out and…he was there and…" She surprised herself at the inability to get out the details to him now. "…he didn't want my money."

"Did he--?" Jason asked, ready to find the guy right now.

"No, " she breathed. "_You_ came out of nowhere and…that was that." She was grossly uncomfortable talking about her brush with what could have been that night. "You made sure I was okay, took me home. The next day I on the metro, on the way to work, and you sat down. Purposely." She smiled at him. "You wanted to make sure I was okay and then you asked me what I'd have done if you hadn't been there. I guess I didn't have a very good answer because you started teaching me better self defense." She licked her bottom lip while flashes of her own memories danced behind her eyes. _Him teaching her how to block, to anticipate, where to kick. She'd missed his block and gone down, tripping over him. The awkward look, he lowered to her and she rose to him. The first kiss. _ "We were friends for a while. Conklin wasn't happy but we never advertised it. Then, after time…we—it just grew."

It made a comfortable kind of sense to him and he nodded. "For how long?"

"Before you went missing? Nearly two years."

He saw then the reason behind the pain in her eyes when they'd talked at the diner months ago, when she'd helped him out of Neal Daniels' office in Madrid. They spent nearly two years as lovers, friends, and he had no recollection. At the time he truly had no memory of it but what embarrassed him was that he'd pushed the question aside. He hadn't asked why or how. He'd simply acknowledged that there'd been 'something' and continued moving.

And now another thought hit him. While he'd always been sure in his love for Marie, he'd always questioned how easy it had been for him to give himself to her. As time had gone on with her he wondered more and more about how easy it was to love her, to trust her, to let her in—all things that went against his nature in every other way and with every other person. He'd opened _to her_ so quickly. But now he knew. Jason realized immediately what had happened. He'd given Marie his feelings for Nicky.


	10. Chapter 10

They'd been in Paris for nearly two weeks when she asked the question she'd been holding since they arrived. "How long—" She choked on the words. "After Paris...?" She didn't want to assume they'd stay together but the thought of running again on her own scared her.

He looked at her as though she should have known. "Soon."

She nodded and looked around. This wasn't her home but she'd been safe here. She caught herself in a mirror as she looked around. Nicky softly took a lock of hair and wrapped it around her finger, trying to decide what color to go with. She figured she had a day or two to decide. A flash of sitting in a chair in a salon ran past her eyes and she took comfort in the memory of having someone actually do her hair. She smiled absently. Jason caught her in the mirror and knew what she was thinking. Their eyes met in the reflection and he smiled at her.

They both hid the shiver they felt as their smiles met.

**-X-**

They sat at the table again.

He'd ask questions and she'd answer, trying hard to give details and yet leave blanks for him to fill in on his own. Their sessions ended the same way each time. He'd look down or away, anywhere, to not meet her eyes, and nod. "Thanks."

And then he'd go out; to where she never knew, she never followed and she never asked. He needed time to put the pieces in order and then to make sense of them. He'd come back in hours, quiet, and in need of a task. He'd rewire the alarm system, take out his cache of money and passports, check it and then put it away, pour over maps and schedules. She'd watch from the couch from behind a book or listen from the bedroom, never interrupting.

She told him how she'd come to Treadstone after a year as a junior handler. She'd been offered the assignment after one of her agents had gone missing when their op had gone bad. Nicky had impressed her superiors with the ability to instantly assess the situation, know and do what needed to be done, and ultimately make the call to disavow the agent basically allowing him to be killed. It had been her call at the meeting and she'd made it easily. Afterward she'd thrown up for an hour in the ladies room and had gotten extraordinarily drunk that night and consecutive nights after.

Her name had come up on a short list not much later when an agent was needed to maintain a safe house in Paris. She took the job immediately thinking she could get away from the guilt of having condemned a man to his death. Instead, as it turned out, that would be the main gist of her new job.

Inwardly she fought against the morality of it but she toughened and, in the end, it was her job, and she took it seriously and was good at the coordination of the logistics of it all. She tried to take solace in the other aspect of her job, the part that kept her there. The part where she looked after the health of the agents. Keeping them healthy, sane, and human were her personal responsibilities.

She told Jason about the time she'd begun to maybe care too much for another agent. West. He'd been wound tight and had come into the program not long after Jason.

"He was going to snap." She told Jason at the table one night. "I saw him one night at a party given for the Ambassador of Turkey to Denmark. I didn't know he'd be there, barely even recognized him at first." She paused. "He blended in, another guy in a tux. But there was something familiar about him, something off…" She bit her bottom lip. "That was probably part of the problem. He wasn't functioning one hundred percent, he was starting to lose it, to get sloppy."

Her shoulders sagged under the weight of the memory. "I guess I was staring, trying to place him at first. As soon as I realized who it was—He just seemed so lost." She took a deep breath. "I looked away and didn't see him the rest of the night, didn't even know he saw me. But then the next day he came to the house---raging. He accused me of checking on him, getting in his way. It really didn't make sense. Conklin was there, heard it all." Nicky's lips came out slightly as she pursed them. "West went inactive after that." She finished quietly. "I never knew if he'd been…or if they sent him back for retraining." She looked at Jason. "They did that sometimes."

He looked at her expectantly.

"Not to you," she assured him. "You were always…operational."

He absorbed all of the information and then made a move that surprised both himself and Nicky. Typically he'd thank her, push his chair back, go in search of cool air and attempt to make sense of the new information.

But instead, tonight, he'd been sitting and listening to Nicky, watching her, studying her. And though he heard everything she said he was also feeling it. The rush of adrenaline as he itched to find out what happened to West, to take her in his arms and feel the skin and curves along her back, to feel her hair as he held her neck in his hand and kissed her lips, hard and yet tenderly. These were his new memories and at times he became desperate to make them real again. His feelings ranged from intense desire (like now) and cool and aloof when he reminded himself of the length of time it had been since he'd held her and told her he loved her.

And so tonight he'd made the decision to stay in and continue the exploration of the past and how he and Nicky fit into it. This new avenue of information finding wouldn't be easy for either of them but ultimately it was necessary.

"Ben." He'd thrown it off casually but in reality it had been hard keeping his name quiet this long.

Nicky's head tilted slightly, as if they new topic had just gone past her ear. "He doesn't have anything to do with Treadstone," she reminded him.

He deflected the answer and repeated, "Ben."

He wanted personal information, information she wasn't sure she was ready to give.

Ben was close to her heart and she already harbored enough guilt over his imagined but probable interrogation; Picturing his denials of her identity, bewilderment over her ID pictures and non classified dossier, his defeated acceptance over her lie; all of it made her twist with guilt and feel sick. She felt dirty even thinking of discussing their relationship with Jason. It served no purpose other than to satisfy his curiosity. But he put his cards on the table when he simply told her, "You knew about Marie."

"It's different," she told him quietly. He knew it of course but they both felt the same in that they needed to be on as much equal footing as possible. And so she took a deep breath and prepared.

"He's a good guy." She whispered. "It was hard. Really hard, at the beginning. I was scared all of the time, to the point where I was nearly paralyzed. Every face was an agent coming for me, every sound was…I was terrified." She hung her head, knowing she shouldn't be embarrassed and yet she was. "I went to Rome and he—" She swallowed. "Ben took care of me." Her tone was low and she stood, walking to the bookshelves spotted with books. "He made me feel safe. God, it was easy being with him. In so many ways it wasn't real and yet…it was. It was so simple. We drank wine and read the newspaper, we played stupid board games," she choked out. "Scrabble of all things. God, when's the last time I ever did that?"

"Nicky---I don't think I play scrabble." He rubbed his face with his hands. Had he been so wrong about her?

She snapped her eyes and locked on him. "No," she agreed.softly "You didn't."

It was quiet for a moment while they each processed memories of how they'd been together years before. Then he spoke.

"You were playing pretend. It's easy to do." He was distant and slightly cold which was in stark contrast to the heat Nicky suddenly felt.

"I wasn't pretending at all!" She flared. "I was lying, yes, but I was honest in it."

"Were you?" Jason countered. "You were Nicolette Parsons with just a different name?" 

"That's not fair!" She fired back. "I did the best I could! I don't do what you do, I don't assume another identity. I can't live that lie" She was talking fast. "Did Ben know me? Yeah, he did for the most part. I lied about my name and where I came from. I didn't lie about what's important to me or---" 

His fists hit the table and he was up and in her face.

"Were you honest with your feelings?" His voice was strong and low and there was immediate tension between them.

Nicky watched him intently, choosing her words carefully, as she spoke.

"Jason…you can't fake your feelings."

"That's not what I asked you."

Her breathing was coming quickly as realizations washed over her and she struggled to answer him. Was she a whore who traded herself for a friendly voice, good sheets and a bottle of wine, or had she dismissed whatever feelings she'd harbored for Jason all these years and slept with Ben in spite? Her only other out was just as dark; she knew there was no future with Ben yet she enjoyed how he made her feel safe and normal again. She could have lived with any of these scenarios if she'd accepted them for what they were instead of making it seem to be more than it was.

"Did you love him? Did you tell him you loved him?" Flashes of him saying those words to Marie hit his mind, heard her whispers back. He was as honest as he could have been with her.

_I did lo—he was a good guy. _Jesus, she couldn't even think the word 'love' when it came to him. He'd hinted to her the depth of his feelings for her and she'd been relieved when there had been a distraction. His kisses were strong and soft and yet she couldn't live in them, always pulled back quickly and first. What did that say about her feelings?

Jason saw her wrestle with her thoughts and emotions. He didn't mean to push her about him, about anything, this soon, but if they were going to move on—together—she needed to be clear. And so did he.

Finally, Nicky found some words—a detour but at least she was working toward her answer. "You're a bastard."

"I may be," he agreed. "What are you?"

The smack across his face was loud and hard. He could have stopped her, he'd seen it coming but allowed the hit. They needed to clear the air and they were running short on time.

"Nicky." He was aching to kiss her and when she looked at him she could see it and wanted nothing more than to simply inch forward and tilt her head up and meet his kiss. But it was too soon. She had to come to terms with what she'd done to get to this point before she could open herself up to him.

He back stepped away, had sensed her desire and then her cool. She was right, he knew. They couldn't pick up where they'd left off years ago. They needed to make sure they were focused on the present and how their paths should continue. Neither of them needed the emotional confusion that was sure to follow if they gave in to one night together.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N—Thanks to everyone for the kind reviews and your patience in waiting for this chapter. I'm sure some of it will feel rushed or pushed but I just couldn't do any more with it. Thanks again for reading! ******

She'd gone to bed immediately after they talked, angry, hurt and confused. She lay curled in the sheets and first allowed herself to remember the warmth she'd felt with him so near to her, then when she was ready, she let her thoughts spin.

Jason had been a solid part of her life for a long time, and then he was gone. Her emotions had rollercoastered during those early days after the Wombosi mission had gone bad. First there had been no contact; the words 'dead' and 'compromised' had been thrown around, and then they thought he'd gone rogue. All of a sudden he was back in Paris and watching her with unknowing eyes while arguing with Conklin. She'd stood in shock, staring at him, taking only milliseconds to recognize that he wasn't merely keeping her out of the fight, but that he'd glossed over her entirely. She heard Conklin use the word 'malfunction' with Jason. He didn't know anything about himself, didn't remember a bit. He was somehow, someway broken. And in turn it broke her heart, both for him and for herself.

Berlin was after that and she thought she'd go clinically insane with finding out that he wanted to meet with _her_ in Alexanderplatz, and then had in fact threatened to kill her.

It had taken her a long time to recover from their interaction in that bunker room. She'd shown resilience to her superiors but she was deeply shaken and they knew it.

The company relocated her to the relative calm of Madrid. She'd been settling in to her post and relishing in the familiarity of the job without traces of Jason everywhere.

She felt like she'd come a long way up until the night Daniels worked late and shut himself in his office. She'd sat at her desk doing mundane file updating when she realized he was out of his office and standing in front of her.

"Sir?" She'd looked up, caught off guard. "Are you alright?"

He sat down, hard, in the chair facing her. "You worked with Bourne."

Nicky felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach but tried to keep it together. "Yes, sir." She answered cautiously. Where was this going? Did she smell whiskey?

"You know about him? His importance?"

She sat back in her chair, pushing the folders she'd been working on to the side and chose her words carefully. "I wasn't involved with Treadstone until it was fully operational." She watched her boss and saw a man who was suddenly carrying a large weight on his shoulders. Something had happened behind the doors of his office that made him a different man coming out than he'd been going in. An email? A phone call? She didn't know.

"Training was relentless." Nicky wasn't sure he was even talking to her. "I could never go through what they were put through. It was necessary torture." He looked to her for understanding. She nodded solemnly in return. "I believed that. I really did."

He slouched slightly and his gaze shifted to a place over her shoulder. "Bourne was the first. They tried every trick they had and probably invented a few, too. Perfected the initiation. Over and over again. He nearly died, more than once, but that was the point. They perfected him. He was the absolute. Even now, our assets are good, nearly perfect. But not like Bourne. They made him the master, gave him everything." He gave a bitter, short laugh and his eyes lost their glaze as they met hers. She was staring at him, trying not to show her horror. He seemed to see her again and straightened up. "We're past Bourne though, right? He's off the grid. The agency says he's high priority but they don't even know where to look."

Nicky didn't know what to say. Daniels let out a long breath and put his hands on his knees. Saying all of the things he never should have to her seemed to lighten him slightly and confuse Nicky immensely. Why had he confided in her? How much danger were they in now that he had?

He sucked his teeth and stood. "I'm going to finish up. You go on. Call it a night."

She nodded in understanding. He wanted her to go. "Good night, sir." She gathered her coat and purse, leaving her work on the desk, and made for the door.

Nicky had gone home and slept fitfully. She'd tried so hard to put Jason in her past and now here he was again. In the morning she'd gone to work but Daniels never came in. By mid-morning she was nervous for his safety and by midday she was nervous for hers. She'd fought the urge all day to open the doors to his office and do a quick search, and finally she gave in. Early evening light was beginning to seep through the windows. A quick sweep of the space told her only that he'd left in a hurry. Coffee cup left out, papers scattered, a mess. He'd gotten out fast. Should she do the same? Daniels' computer monitor was off but the light blinking from the side told her the computer was still in fact on. Sloppy. She pushed the monitor button, and the bright glare flooded the dimly lit room. He must have been in hurry, maybe still drinking; on the monitor was the last site Daniels had been on. A wire transferring service and his receipt was on the screen. $100,000 to a bank in Tangiers, successful completion early this morning. He'd been gone all day. A good head start. Nicky swallowed hard and debated what to do. Within fifteen seconds she made her choice and logged him out of the system and turned off the computer. She grabbed her things once again and headed back down to the street. If it wasn't safe for Daniels then maybe she too should stay away from the office.

That thinking only held her for a few hours and she started to really think about what she'd done. She didn't know what her boss was doing. To cover up his mess without full knowledge was sheer stupidity on her part. She was sure she'd have some explaining to do and it would be very soon. For now, she decided, she'd lay low and go back to the office later. She put it off until late that night. Walking up the steps toward the office she half hoped he'd be there, that Daniels had changed his mind about running or whatever it is he was doing. If he hadn't, she realized, she'd have to make a choice. Stay and call it in, or do something insane-- quit, move, stop this life and try another. Was there really even a choice to be made?

And then her hand was on the doorknob and she was pulled inside.

In front of her. Gun aimed at her head. Again. Jason.

To her surprise the sheer panic didn't come. She was scared, yes, but calm too. One quick look around told her she'd been right to worry about both her and Daniels' safety. Two men on the floor. A phone call from Vosen, an easy lie, and she'd decided. Within a few minutes the scope of her life had changed. She'd made her choice.

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In the pre –dawn hours Nicky finally got out of bed. She'd fought with sleep and lost but at least she felt as though she'd come to some good conclusions about who she was and what she wanted. She padded softly through the small hallway and found Jason seated on the couch. He was looking at a map of South America.

She leaned against the doorjamb, watching silently. He'd heard her bed creak as she'd gotten up and the muffled footsteps against the floorboards coming this way. His head was down as he smoothed the map on the small coffee table.

"South America?" she questioned.

He nodded, eyes on the map. "Uruguay." He didn't look at her and his voice was low when he spoke. "For before. I'm sorry." Direct and simple but vaguely unemotional.

Nicky threw him a quick smile, grateful for the apology no matter how small. "Thanks." Her hair fell in her face as she tilted her head and she pushed it out of the way. A habit for her. She moved forward and lightly made her way to him, taking a seat on the same couch.

"I've been thinking," she started. "I've been thinking about what you said. About me. About me and how I treated Ben." Nicky inhaled deeply and shook her head slightly. "I wasn't dishonest with him, Jason.. Not with how I felt." She paused. "Or how I thought I felt." She shook her head again, still trying to clear her muddled thoughts on this topic. "I mean…" Ben's smile and quick laugh flashed in her mind. "I really thought that, in the situation, I thought things could work out." Really, it was simple.

"I get it." It was slow, as if it was painful having this conversation. "I do."

"I know you do," She affirmed. He looked up at her unable to hide his surprise. "I think it was similar for you. With Marie." Nicky desperately hoped she wasn't overstepping her bounds by bringing up her name.

Guilt caught his voice and he was surprised at how he let her hear it. "I don't know. I thought—" He looked straight on at Nicky. "Marie was special. She believed in me when I didn't even know who I was. She wanted to help—She was a good person." He stood and Nicky involuntarily grabbed his wrist. At his look she gently applied pressure and pulled him back down. "Tell me." She smiled.

Jason wanted to say it felt wrong, _was_ wrong to talk about Marie with Nicky. But strangely he found himself wanting to tell her about her. And he did. "I don't want to think—not even for a second—that I didn't care for her. I told her I loved her. I thought it was true." Jason looked down again. "But I think—" he started slowly. "I think maybe—maybe I traded her for you. I didn't remember anything, but there was always something about you---maybe part of me knew, let her take your place…" His guilt and grief were in plain sight.

"Jason, no. Even with my limited amount of psych, what you had with Marie really had nothing to do with me." She smiled at him. "I don't know, maybe in the beginning you did 'transfer' feelings…but you were together for a very long time. Whatever emotion you felt for her, through me, that was limited. I don't have any doubts and really neither should you. She loved you." She paused. "And you loved her. And that's okay."

Jason looked at Nicky as she continued..\\\

"The two of us are swimming in this crazy mesh of past and present. It's not real or—it shouldn't be. I loved you." She shrugged. "I still love you—for who you were. For who I think you are now. And I never really let go of you. Never really moved on." Nicky swallowed. "But I should have."

Jason was still processing all of this-- the information, the fact that they were having this conversation. "I know." He said finally and then paused before going on. "I'm glad you didn't." He looked up at her then. "I can't explain any of this." He told her. "But—to have you here, just talking to you, it feels right." Nicky could see his bicep muscles stiffen and she knew he was stressed but needed to talk. "I nearly killed you in Berlin. But something stopped me, wouldn't let me. I felt pushed and trapped and it almost would have felt good to… I couldn't." His eyes locked on her, looking through her.

Nicky let out a long breath and the apartment was quiet. The two of them sat together on the couch in an uneasy silence, that as the light grew and the sun rose, grew more comfortable.

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Nicky stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was drying quickly thanks to the cool winter air and minimal heat of the apartment. Her face was the same but there was a peace to it that had been missing for a long time, a calm. Her hair color was now a dark chestnut and she'd streaked some lighter colors throughout. Not drastic but enough to change up the color slightly. She wouldn't have chosen this for herself under normal circumstances but her appearance would now be less likely to match any written description. Now for the cut. Nicky took a deep breath and picked up the shears that Jason had left for her along with the three hair coloring boxes. "Your choice," he'd said. "But it's time."

She wasn't a stylist but she was relatively pleased with the simple bob cut she'd given herself. There were longer pieces in the back that she couldn't quite reach but overall she could do a lot with it.

Nicky towel dried her hair a bit more and when she lifted the towel she was surprised to see Jason there, staring at her in the mirror.

"Looks good. Different."

She turned to face him as her hand involuntarily went to touch her hair. "Yeah? Not too bad." She offered him a quick smile. "I'm just about ready."

He nodded. He'd been completely honest with her when he'd said he just felt 'right' being with her and talking to her. But not complete. He was now Now he was driven to touch her. Then, he felt, he'd feel whole again.

He stepped toward her and put a hand forward, touching the shortness of her hair. They were so close. "Please," he whispered, his eyes watching her as he leaned forward.

"Jason…" She whispered back, not in defense, but just to say his name again. She closed her eyes and moved toward him accepting and returning his kiss, lightly at first and then more demanding. His hands were holding her face, her neck, moving the towel away from her shoulders and kissing her neck before returning to her mouth, eager for the simple pleasure of just holding her like this.


End file.
